


Spread your wings

by killerweasel



Series: The Crane [2]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the simplest explanation is the best one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spread your wings

Title: Spread your wings  
Fandom: _Sherlock_  
Characters: Greg Lestrade/Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes  
Word Count: 1,051  
Rating: PG-13  
A/N: Takes place after the events in [The crane](http://archiveofourown.org/works/567016)  
Warnings: none  
Summary: Sometimes the simplest explanation is the best one.

“What have you done to yourself, brother mine?”

Sherlock was so startled by his brother’s voice that he dropped the bottle of shampoo. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before he attempted to bend down to pick it up again. Pain flared through his body. “It is none of your business what I do to myself, Mycroft.” He wasn’t going to ask pointless questions like how Mycroft got in or why he knew Sherlock wasn’t exactly in the best shape at the moment.

“I’ll get it.” Mycroft’s hand closed around the top of the bottle. If Sherlock didn’t know better, he’d swear the concern on his brother’s face was real. “Here you go.” Mycroft didn’t release the bottle until he was sure Sherlock had a good grip on it.

Sherlock could feel Mycroft studying him, taking in how thin he was and the rows of small scabs from plucked feathers. He waited for a lecture, waiting to be told about the various rules he’d broken, but nothing came. As Sherlock scrubbed his hair, he thought of a number of things to call his brother, words he usually used to chase him away. None of them passed his lips though. He quickly rinsed himself off before turning the water off. “Can you grab me a towel?”

Mycroft held out the towel, again saying nothing. Sherlock wrapped the towel around his waist after drying himself off “Will you get it over with, Mycroft? I know you want to tell me all the things I’ve done wrong, how I’ve managed to disappoint you yet again, or how I’ve upset Mummy.”

“Mummy approves.”

Sherlock blinked. “What?”

“Do you still have water in your ears? I said she approves.” Mycroft shook his head. “She wants you to bring him around for tea at some point.”

Sitting down on the seat of the loo, Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair. “What about you?”

“Since when has it mattered to you what I think about anything, Sherlock?” Sherlock gave him a look. “Yes, I checked into his background. Gregory Lestrade, former Detective Inspector for Scotland Yard, took the fall for one of his up and coming officers, which in turn lead to a lawsuit. The lawsuit cost the majority of his savings and the divorce which followed took the rest. He moved to this cabin, which belonged to his grandfather and is completely paid for, almost two years ago.”

“He saved my life, Mycroft.” Sherlock’s fingers traced over the scar on his shoulder. “He could have left me there, but he didn’t.”

“I know.” Mycroft’s eyes followed the motion of Sherlock’s fingers. “Why did you keep pushing yourself when you knew this would be the result?”

“I don’t know.” That was a lie and they both knew it. “He’ll be back soon. Are you planning on being here when he arrives?”

“I have a meeting to attend to in London.” Mycroft straightened up, moving away from the wall. He smoothed down the front of his suit. “Take care of yourself, Sherlock.”

“He saw me.” Sherlock’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it made Mycroft freeze in the doorway. “He saw what I was doing and he begged me to stop.”

“And you actually listened?” Mycroft’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Sherlock, there are reasons we conceal what we are. Most people wouldn’t understand. They would get... upset. How did he react?”

“He said he loved me.” Sherlock laughed and he hated that it sounded a bit hysterical. “I was still a crane when he said it. It made no sense then and it makes no sense now.”

“Sometimes things don’t need to make sense.” He graced Sherlock with one of his rare smiles. “Take care of yourself, Sherlock. If you need me, you know how to reach me.”

\---

When Greg arrived home with groceries, he found Sherlock curled up on the couch. He stared at the tiny scabs on Sherlock’s pale flesh. He could also see the individual vertebrae in Sherlock’s spine. Greg kicked himself for not noticing anything sooner. He should have been paying more attention.

“It isn’t your fault.” Sherlock sighed. “I knew what would happen if I continued and I did it anyway.”

After setting the bags down, Greg sat down on the floor next to the couch by the back of Sherlock’s head. “What would have happened if you’d used all of your feathers?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” He had the sudden urge to change into a crane and fly away. With his body the way it was though, that would be impossible. “I’ve heard stories about others who gave up all that they were to stay like this until the end of their days. You weren’t supposed to see me like that. There are rules we’ve been told to follow.”

A knot began to form in Greg’s stomach. “Are you going to have to leave?”

“What?” Sherlock rolled over, hissing a little as his body protested the action. “No, I don’t have to leave. Since when have I ever listened to anyone’s rules?”

“How are you, really? And don’t tell me you’re fine because I know you’re hurting.” Greg gave Sherlock a look.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Everything’s sore. The transformation last night when I was already pushing myself beyond my limit didn’t help. I don’t even remember changing back again. I need food and rest. It takes a few weeks for the feathers to be replaced.”

“I’ll take care of the food part.” He glanced at the groceries. “You’d be more comfortable on a bed instead of the couch, Sherlock.”

“By the way, once I’m healed, my mother wants you over for tea.” The look on Greg’s face made Sherlock chuckle. “You’ll probably be meeting my brother in the future too. That will be even less enjoyable.”

Greg got up and helped Sherlock get to his feet. He followed him into his bedroom. “Rest now and I’ll bring in the food when it’s ready.”

“Greg?” Sherlock eased his body onto the bed. Greg was correct, it was more comfortable. “When you saw what I was, why didn’t you throw me out or run away?”

Greg shrugged. “You’re still you, Sherlock. That’s what matters.”

Sherlock drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
